


Winter's Bone

by Lexus (Beautiful_Ruin)



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Ageplay, F/F, Oksana really fucking hates homework like RLY, Villanelle tries to ruin the moment, butttttttt she holds off for a few minutes, it is also fluff, no sex between Mommy and Oksana, so if you don't like AGEPLAY, then do not read this AGEPLAY fic, this is pure ageplay, with some pretty heavy feels I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Ruin/pseuds/Lexus
Summary: This is 6K words of ageplay fluff with some sad trauma kind of feels but it's okay because they're fixing the trauma.***Also, shoutout to Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone because Jesus Christ
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Winter's Bone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatsmyname2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsmyname2/gifts).



Sometimes, one little comment can lead to the realization that you’ve been missing something you would otherwise never have known you were missing.

Eve is sitting on the sofa with Villanelle nestled between her legs, stroking her hand through her lover’s hair. They’re watching Winter’s Bone, and she notices Villanelle crying. She has no idea why in the fuck Villanelle is crying, because _this is Winter’s Bone_ , and so she turns off the movie and lets her lover cry.

Villanelle isn’t sure exactly why she’s crying, she just knows it has something to do with Jennifer Lawrence’s performance because it touches down somewhere deep in her soul. She is not used to crying and she doesn’t much like the feeling, but Eve is holding her so she doesn’t fight it. Her mind is whirling, trying to define what has gotten her to this point, and when it hits her, she gasps quietly. “She was their mother,” she says. “She was not their mother, but she was what a mother should be and she risked everything for the little ones. She loved them so much...”

Eve’s breath leaves her and she holds Villanelle tight. “I wish I could have raised you,” she finally says without really planning her words. “You would’ve been loved every minute.”

Villanelle goes stiff in her arms and she’s afraid she’s upset her lover. She’s on the verge of an apology when Villanelle turns around to face her. She doesn’t look upset. She looks introspective. Which is not very common for Villanelle.

Villanelle’s heart is suddenly racing, her eyes glassy with an emotion other than sadness. “Eve,” she whispers, searching Eve’s face, trying to navigate her way through the sea of unease she currently finds herself in. How will Eve react if she says what she is thinking? “What if you could?”

Eve is confused for about two-point-three seconds and then she thinks she understands what Villanelle means, though she isn’t completely sure, and if she’s getting this wrong, Villanelle might really be upset... but she doesn’t think she’s getting it wrong. Not from the way Villanelle is looking at her, so eager, so tentative, so _young_. She swallows and breathes again, buying time. “You want me to... you want to play... you want to... roleplay... Mommy and Oksana?” She braces for impact.

Villanelle exhales in a rush, the air whooshing out of her and leaving her breathless. Her heart isn’t just racing now, it’s pounding, in her chest and in her ears and between her legs. Eve doesn’t sound turned off by it, and when has Eve ever not been more than accepting of her, anyway? Never. Eve always accepts her for who she is, what she’s done, and what she can’t be. So she presses her lips tight together and nods. 

Eve would be lying if she said she isn’t excited by the idea. Not just sexually, but excited by the opportunity to give Villanelle back a little of what had been negated by her terrible mother. What she should have had from the moment she was born, but had _never_ had. “We should, um, we should talk about rules.”

Villanelle relaxes. She’s never relaxed at the word ‘rules’ before, but this time she welcomes it, because it means Eve is _okay_ with this and wants to do this with her. Her nerves stop trying to flip her skin inside out and she returns to her previous position between Eve’s legs, leaning her back against Eve’s chest. “Play with my hair some more while we talk about it?” she asks.

“Mmm. I’d love to,” Eve says, nuzzling her nose against the top of Villanelle’s head and bringing her hand back up to resume running her fingers through the silky strands.

Now that they are on the same page and she is more comfortable, with Eve’s hand in her hair, she opens up a little more. “Rules for Oksana or rules for us while we are Mommy and Oksana?”

“Probably both,” Eve says, relaxing a little as well. It’s going to be weird being able to make Villanelle follow any kind of rules, because as an adult, she never does. _Ever_. “How deep into it do you want to go? Should we get some clothes for you?”

“Yes,” Villanelle says. That one is easy. She always wants new clothes and this is a perfect excuse to buy a lot of them.

Eve laughs. “That was a stupid question. Should we set aside a part of the closet for Oksana’s clothes?”

“Do little girls have closets? Could we get Oksana a bureau?”

“I think they do, but sure, we can get a bureau.” Why not? They have the space and the money.

“Can Oksana have a black one or red?”

“She can have whatever color she wants,” Eve promises.

“Will you watch movies with her?”

“Of course. We’ll make a separate shelf for things that are okay for little girls to watch.”

“I think Oksana likes stuffed animals and coloring books,” Villanelle says quietly, trying to remember the things she liked before juvenile detention.

Eve perks up at an idea. “What about the guest room, baby? Do you want a bedroom for Oksana?”

Villanelle’s chest hurts and she turns a little so she can wrap her arms around Eve and press her lips to Eve’s shoulder. After a moment, she nods. “Yes, that would be nice.”

Eve is suddenly glad they have money out the ass because she wants to give Villanelle a safe space with nothing in there that would ever pull her out of it. “Does Oksana want to choose her bedding and stuff or would she rather be surprised?”

Villanelle isn’t sure. “I don’t know. She—she likes vampires,” she says softly. “If her mommy got her bedding with vampires she would like that surprise.”

That is rather unexpected but Eve takes it in stride. “Does she like all creatures of the night or just vampires?”

“She likes them all, but vampires are her favorite because they stay young and beautiful by drinking people’s blood.”

“So is her favorite color black?” Eve is really trying not to show surprise at anything Villanelle reveals.

“Yes. Black and red. Mostly black. She likes to dress up even when it is not Halloween.”

“She sounds adorable,” Eve says, giving Villanelle a squeeze.

“She is _very_ cute but sometimes she is naughty.” Villanelle holds her breath, suddenly nervous. “What will you do if she is naughty, Eve?”

Eve’s eyes widen a little. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She tries to breathe normally despite the ache the question causes low in her belly. “I think that’s something we should decide together. I don’t want to do anything that would damage her or pull you out of the experience.”

Villanelle’s throbbing a little between her legs and she tries to relax again. They have never talked about things like this before, but Villanelle thinks she knows what she wants because the idea will not leave her brain and it makes her a little slick. “Would you want to spank her if she is naughty, Eve?”

Eve can barely hear the question, Villanelle asks it so quietly, but there’s a spark behind the words, too. “Yes,” she exhales honestly. “I would. If that’s okay.”

“Oksana will be upset with you, but I will not be,” Villanelle says, hoping she makes sense.

“Speaking of that, if we’re playing and you ever need to stop, just call me Eve instead of Mommy. Is that okay?”

“Yes, that is perfect.” Villanelle nods. “If you need to stop, call me Villanelle.”

Eve loves that Villanelle is thinking of her comfort too, even though she will be the one running things. It just shows how far her lover has come with empathy, at least as far as Eve is concerned. She’s still working on it with regards to other people. It’s gotten to the point where she still doesn’t do it on her own, but if Eve points it out, she can show a little bit of empathy for others. She smiles as she thinks about a day last week when they’d seen an elderly man’s grocery bag break on the way out of the store.

_“Aww,” Eve said, starting to leave the line to help him, but Villanelle grabbed her arm._

_“Where are you going, Eve? We are next.”_

_Eve knew she saw the man picking up his groceries. “Baby, he’s elderly. When you get older like that, a lot of times it’s painful to bend down over and over to pick things up off the floor.”_

_Villanelle looked at the man, looked at Eve, then looked at the checkout counter. She reached over and took a bag from the bag dispenser. “I will help him,” she said._

_Eve watched her go over and say something to the man, then pick up the rest of his groceries for him and put them into the new bag, and she had to turn away and quickly wipe her eyes before Villanelle got back in line. She didn’t ask what Villanelle had said to him, because she didn’t want the moment ruined if it was something rude. So she just existed there with her pride, and she kissed Villanelle’s cheek once her lover was back in line._

“Thank you, baby. I’ll do that.”

***

A week later they hadn’t talked about it again, but Villanelle had ordered a bunch of clothes online, and while she was on a job in Berlin for a few days, Eve set up the guest bedroom for Oksana. The first thing she did was paint the walls so they’d be dry by the time she needed to set everything else up. She did a dark pink on one to match the carpet she had in mind, a yellow on another, black on the third and red on the fourth. Once they dried she measured the floor and paid an exorbitant amount of money to get a rush order on that exact size of the exact carpet she wanted, and she felt a little like royalty, but hey, that’s what money got you these days. She laid out the carpet, making sure the corners were flat since she wasn’t a carpet installer and wasn’t going to staple it down. Once that was perfect she went out and got a bunch of Monster High bedding and toys and coloring books, and she put up little gothic knick-knacks that were kid appropriate. She set up a new plasma TV across from the bed and flanked it with coffin-shaped shelves, and then tacked up a key holder shaped like a bat by the bed and hung a bunch of dress-up jewelry on it. She filled the black toy box with stuffed animals, some cute and some creepy, and she hung a big fake spiderweb in one corner of the ceiling with a giant stuffed spider living on it. She had a backpack with a few workbooks in it that she set on the floor beside the bureau, and then put the clothes Villanelle had ordered into the bureau, except one outfit that she kept in her and Villanelle’s bedroom, and then she was just waiting for her girl to come home. Two days had never seemed longer.

Finally, she is on her way to pick up Villanelle at the airport.

Villanelle slides into the car, leaning across the gear shift to kiss Eve senseless. “I missed you,” she says. “I hate long jobs.”

“I hate them more, but this particular one allowed me to set something up that I think you’re going to like...”

Villanelle’s heart starts racing immediately. “Is it for me or...?”

Eve pulls away from the curb and bites her lip, eyeing Villanelle sideways. “It’s for Oksana.” She hopes that’s okay.

Thump. Thump. Thump. “Did you make her a bedroom, Eve?” Her heartbeat is louder than her voice.

“I did. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind? Sometimes I do not understand you, Eve. We talked about it and decided you would do it, and now you think I am going to be upset with you? You are silly, do you know this?” She smiles to take any edge off her words and leans over to kiss Eve’s shoulder. “Oksana is very excited.”

“Does Oksana want to see the room today?”

“Of course she does. She is as patient as I am, Eve. Where do you think my impatience comes from?”

Eve laughs, but then settles. “So when we get home, then, I want you to go into our bedroom and change into the outfit I left for you on the end of the bed, and when you come into the living room, you will be Oksana and I will be Mommy. Okay?”

ThumpthumpthumpthumpthumpTHUMP. “Yes.” Her hands are sweating now and she wipes them on her slacks. Oh, she is _nervous_.

***

Villanelle stares at the outfit on the bed. It’s one she bought, but it looks unfamiliar because to see it actually in front of her eyes is different than seeing it on a website. It is just a pair of jean cutoff shorts and a long-sleeved Twilight shirt with Bella and Edward kissing, but it is something she would never wear under regular circumstances and it feels weird.

When she picks up the shorts her eyes dart to a pair of plain white cotton underpants and a white bra with no underwire, and her knees almost give out. Eve bought those, because she had not. She picks up the underwear and rubs it across her cheek, taking a slow breath before she starts to get undressed.

It is a slow process because she is fighting her nerves every step of the way, but finally she is in the bra and underwear, shorts and shirt. Eve has bought her some white ankle socks with ruffles too, and she puts those on, squishing her toes in the carpet, and then, finally, she goes to the bedroom door. She’s about to call to Eve but she realizes she can’t say the word Mommy until Eve says Oksana first, she just can’t. And what if Eve does not like Oksana? The thought devastates her and she tries to push it away. She shuffles out of the bedroom and into the living room, and she doesn’t speak, just curls her fingers around the sleeves of her shirt and slides onto the sofa beside Eve, leaning up against her.

Eve is a bit of a wreck herself, hoping she doesn’t fuck this up. She’s not a mother, but it can’t be that hard, right? She cringes, pretty sure any actual mothers would laugh their asses off if they heard her think that. Thankfully, her thoughts are private. “Oksana,” she says brightly when Villanelle curls up to her, turning to kiss Villanelle’s head. “How was school?”

Villanelle’s stomach is doing flips. She hopes she can speak. “Was okay,” she says with a shrug. She remembers not liking one of her teachers. “I do not like my teacher.”

“Why not?” Eve slides an arm around her shoulders.

“He is mean.”

“What does he do that’s mean? Do you want a snack, little princess?”

Villanelle likes that nickname. “Yes, Mommy, I’m hungry.” The word flows easily and she wonders why she was so nervous about saying it. She doesn’t answer the question about the teacher.

“Carrots and ranch or celery and peanut butter?” Eve asks, getting to her feet and tugging Villanelle with her.

Villanelle makes a face. “Carrots and ranch, I guess. I wanted cookies.”

Eve snorts. “You can have cookies after dinner.”

“Fine,” Villanelle says exaggeratedly, and skips to the table to sit down and wait.

Okay, she’s adorable. Eve has to actively keep herself from just standing there staring and force herself to pay attention to what she’s doing. She squirts ranch into a bowl and puts some carrots on a plate, and deposits them on the table in front of Villanelle.

Villanelle starts eating and chewing as she always does.

“Wowwwww,” Eve says, sitting down across from her. “What is going on with your table manners, Oksana?”

Villanelle freezes and forcibly swallows, a little squeak sneaking out. “Because I forgot to say thank you?” she asks, feeling her face flush a little warm.

“Well, there is that, but I meant please chew with your mouth closed.”

Villanelle wonders the last time she paid attention to how she chews, and she thinks the answer is never. She lowers her eyes to the table and fidgets with her plate. “Sorry, Mommy. Am I in trouble?”

“Nooo,” Eve says, reaching across the table to hold one of her hands. “Just chew with your mouth closed, baby.”

“It’s hard for me to remember,” Villanelle says, picking up another carrot and dipping it in ranch, the sauce dribbling down her chin as she takes a bite. She wipes it away with her sleeve and only too late realizes that Mommy doesn’t like that.

“Oksana? You have a napkin right there,” Eve says, pointing, and pushes one closer to her lover. “Don’t use your sleeve, please. Remember who does your laundry? I don’t want to do extra loads because you didn’t use your napkin.”

Villanelle takes the napkin and wipes her mouth even though it’s too late, because she wants to show she is listening.

Eve pats her hand and lets go. “Next time use the napkin _instead_ of your sleeve, not after it, okay?” She laughs a little. “Oh, guess what? I redecorated your room while you were at school today...”

“What?!” Carrots go spewing and Villanelle is out of her seat like lightning.

Eve flicks carrot from her cheek and gets up to follow, hearing a scream when she’s halfway there so she moves a little faster. She finds Villanelle sprawled face down on the bed with a pile of Monster High dolls curled under one arm, yelling into the blankets and kicking her feet. It’s probably the cutest thing Eve has ever seen in her life. “Oh no, you hate it!” she says dramatically over Villanelle’s yelling.

“Are you CRAZY Mommy I love it!” Villanelle gets up and shouts at her. “LOOK, this one is a vampire, my favorite!” she says, holding the Draculaura doll millimetres from Eve’s face.

“I like her hair,” Eve says, offering a skeptical glance. “She’s not going to bite me, is she?”

Villanelle laughs and hugs her, burying her face in her neck. “She will not bite you, Mommy, I promise. Thank you...” Her exuberance dies down as tears form in her eyes, because Eve did all of this to make her feel special and important, and that is exactly how she feels. How Oksana feels. There is still a distance between her sense of self and Oksana’s, but the more she calls Eve Mommy, the smaller the gap becomes. “Will you play with me?”

“Do you have homework?”

Her jaw drops. “No,” she says quickly.

Eve thinks she has just been told her first lie as a parent. “Are you sure, Oksana?”

Villanelle’s breathing fast. She wants to play with her dolls. “I—” She makes the mistake of looking at Eve’s stern face and deflates, turning around slowly and setting the vampire doll on her bed. She doesn’t look at Eve as she confesses. “I have a little.”

Eve shoves her knuckle in her mouth and bites down to keep from making some kind of pathetic noise because Villanelle just looks so _sad_ , and then at the confession she takes a slow breath and steps up behind her girl, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you for telling me the truth. Go grab your backpack and I’ll help you with your homework.”

Villanelle perks up a little. “You will help me?” This is unexpected. Now homework does not seem so bad, if Eve will be helping. She gets her backpack and pulls out one of the workbooks, shoving it quickly back in when it’s math and pulling out another one. Science, that’s better.

Eve watches, transfixed, and laughs at the antics. “You still have to do your math, you know...”

“But I want to do my science first,” Villanelle says. “And maybe by the time we are done with science I will not have time for math before bed.”

“Oh my God,” Eve says, still laughing. “You wretched little thing!” But she’s smiling and ruffling Villanelle’s hair as she says it, making sure she’s not taken at all seriously, and even tickles her a little.

Villanelle shrieks and bats at Eve’s hand, jumping out of the way. “No! We do not have time for tickling, I have to do my homework!” she shouts in a growly voice. “Should we work in the kitchen, Mommy?”

“Sure, after you clean up the carrots you spit at me.”

“I did not do that!” Villanelle’s eyes are wide. She would never spit food at Eve.

“It was an accident,” Eve tells her. “You were just excited about your new room. It’s okay, baby. I’ll help you clean up.” She heads for the kitchen.

Villanelle’s heart is racing and her hands are sweating again, but then Eve is saying it’s okay, she’s not mad, she will help clean up the mess, and Villanelle feels a lot more like Oksana after this, after the abject fear of having done something so wrong.

When she doesn’t hear any movement behind her, Eve stops and turns, and her breath catches in her throat because her little girl is crying. “Oksana?” she asks, walking back over. “Oksana, baby, it’s okay,” she promises, wrapping Villanelle in her arms.

“You’re not mad,” Villanelle cries, melting into Eve’s arms. “I didn’t mean to do that, Mommy, I’m sorry, please don’t send me away, okay?” Eve could just be pretending not to be mad to keep her quiet and trusting, and the next thing she knows she’ll be left behind again. “I will be _so_ good, I promise...”

Eve’s heart breaks. “Oksana Astankova,” she whispers. “I am not sending you anywhere, now or ever. It wouldn’t matter even if you spit your food out on purpose, little princess, I would never send you away. That would never be a consequence for getting into trouble. You’re my little girl and I love you, Oksana.”

Villanelle feels vulnerable, and she cries into Eve’s neck, and it’s really Oksana crying too, she can feel it. Eve is really letting her be a little girl, and is really going to take care of her if she lets Villanelle slip away entirely for a little while. “I love you too, Mommy...”

After a minute of just holding each other, Eve clears her throat. “This doesn’t mean you’re getting out of doing homework, by the way.”

Oksana tightens her fists in Mommy’s shirt and groans. “That’s mean.”

“No, what would be mean would be not caring if you do well in school. Mean would be not caring if you learn everything you’re supposed to learn to help you grow up. Mean would be—”

“Okay!” Oksana shrieks. “The pages in my workbook are shriveling up with old age, Mommy, can we please do my homework that I’ve been _trying_ to do for _hours_?”

Eve snorts out a laugh and Oksana is going to kill her, she knows it. “You’re something else,” she says. “How did I end up with the greatest kid?”

Oksana feels her cheeks heat up and she rushes to the kitchen to help clean up the mess from her snack, then sits at the table with her workbook. “I forgot a pencil.”

“You know where they are,” Eve says, washing Oksana’s snack bowl and plate, not missing the grunt of displeasure from behind her and the scraping of chair legs on the floor. Or the stomps away from the table and then back toward it. She grins and finishes washing, setting the dishes in the strainer to dry, wipes her hands on the towel hanging from the fridge, and joins her little girl at the table. “Okay, little princess, what do we got?”

Oksana slumps down in her chair. “Plants.”

She couldn’t sound more bored if she tried, and Eve leans over to see the workbook page. She’d gotten a second grade one, figuring that could work for a variety of ages. “Read the paragraph,” she prompts.

Oksana’s brows furrow because she doesn’t like reading out loud. It’s easier in her head. “Plants need light—sunlight—plants need sunlight. Plants need water. Plants need soil. They get energy from the sun just like people get energy from food. They start as a seed and grow into many things. Pl—there are many different kinds of plants.” She looks at Mommy and shoves the workbook a few inches away.

“Good job, little princess,” Eve says, nudging the pencil toward Oksana. “First question. What are the three things plants need in order to grow?”

“I just read it,” Oksana says. “Sunlight, water and soil. Do they think we are stupid?” She grabs the pencil and scribbles her answer, then tosses it back down. She doesn’t want to do homework.

Eve takes the pencil and erases the scribbled answer. “Oksana,” she warns, but she keeps her voice light.

“You erased it!” Oksana shouts, tears welling in her eyes.

“Oksana, _you_ know you need to write so your teacher can read it, and _I_ know that is not what your writing looks like. Please write it in your regular handwriting, honey.”

“Mommy, don’t erase it!” Oksana continues to shout, swiping at her eyes as she grabs the pencil again and writes more carefully.

“That’s much better, thank you,” Eve says, leaning over to kiss the side of her head. “Read the next question.”

“Plants start out as a blank,” Oksana reads. She writes the word ‘seed’ in the blank space. There is one more question. “What is your favorite kind of plant?” She looks at Mommy. “I don’t care about plants. I don’t have a favorite so I’m skipping this one. Okay I’m done.” She closes the book and pushes it away again.

Eve is patient. “You like berries, don’t you?”

“Yes.” _So what_?

“Berry bushes are plants.”

 _Oh_. Mommy wants her to write the third answer. With a sigh, she grabs the book and opens it back up, writing ‘berries’ and then slamming it shut again.

“Good job,” Eve says. “Go get your math and then you’ll be all done with homework and we can play with your vampire dolls until dinner.”

“They’re not _all_ vampires,” Oksana says as she gets up from the table and goes to her room, taking the math workbook out of her backpack and returning to the table with Mommy. When she opens to the first math page, her eyes go wide. “I am not doing this whole page,” she says, staring at the rows and rows of math problems.

Instead of scolding her or demanding that she do it, Eve takes a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and covers the last four rows. “Start with the first row. You know these ones, they’re all just plus one.”

Oksana breathes, trying to pretend she doesn’t hate homework so much that she could puke. She writes the answers to the first row. When Mommy moves the napkin down she tries to be good and just writes the answers to the second row.

“You’re almost halfway done, baby. Good job,” Eve says, uncovering the middle row.

Oksana likes Mommy being happy with her but she hates math. She’s going to break the pencil after she writes the very last answer. “It’s fine,” she says, swiping the napkin aside and answering the rest of the problems, and then she very deliberately holds the pencil in both of her fists and snaps it in half. She feels a sense of calm when she does this, as if the pencil was at fault for her having to sit and do homework, and she has gotten her revenge by breaking it.

“Oksana,” Eve says calmly. “Why did you break your pencil?” She knows there will be a reason that’s not like a reason any other child would come up with, and she tries to prepare for it.

Oksana snarls a little and sets the pieces on top of her open math workbook. “If I didn’t have a pencil, I wouldn’t have had to do homework,” she says.

“Well you can use part of this week’s allowance to buy a new box of pencils,” Eve says, then watches in amazement as Oksana stands up and curls her fingers under the edge of the table, upending it with one smooth jerk of her wrists. The math book goes flying, the napkins flutter through the air and float toward the floor, and the butter dish shatters.

Oksana is enraged, and she runs into her room and slams the door, turning the lock on the handle to keep Mommy out, because as mad as she is, she knows Mommy is going to be even madder, and she doesn’t want to get slapped or sent away or locked in her closet. When she turns and looks at all the things Mommy just bought for her, the Monster High toys and new stuff for her bed and such a cool rug, and looks at how Mommy painted the walls just for her and got her a big TV and made sure her bureau was her favorite color, she feels something she’s never felt before and she has to sit down or she’s going to fall over. She sits in the middle of the floor, her breath wheezing in and out, loud in her ears. Something is happening inside her chest and inside her head, and she thinks maybe it’s sorryness, but she doesn’t think sorry is a feeling, it’s a word you say when you feel... bad. That’s it, that is the feeling. Oksana feels _bad_ for the way she behaved to Mommy.

Eve doesn’t follow her right away. She sweeps up the ceramic pieces of the butter dish, idly hoping she remembers to buy a new one the next time they’re out shopping, and then she rights the table and puts the napkins back on it. The math workbook and the two halves of Oksana’s pencil, she leaves. Oksana can clean those up later, but she’s not gonna have her kid cleaning up broken ceramic.

About fifteen minutes later, Eve takes a breath and knocks lightly on Oksana’s door before ope—it’s locked. “Unlock the door, please,” she says. She gets no answer. She doesn’t have a key for this door, she doesn’t think there even is one, and it’s not one of the ones you can trip with a household tool. The door opens the wrong way to be able to slide a credit card and do it that way, so she’s stuck trying to pick the lock. At least Villanelle had shown her how a few times, even if she’d never gotten very good at it.

It’s another ten minutes before she hears the satisfying click, and she drops Villanelle’s lockpicks and opens the door. She doesn’t see Oksana at first glance, but they’re too high up for her to have climbed out the window so she has to be in here somewhere.

She checks under the bed and behind the bureau, and finally finds Oksana huddled in the corner of her closet with her knees drawn up to her chest. Instead of trying to get Oksana to come out, Eve goes in. She crawls into the closet and sits next to her little girl, hoping for the strength to navigate them through this, because she knows that’s up to her. This is the part where she changes Oksana’s traumatic experiences and makes them healthy. If she’s hiding in the closet it means she’s scared, and if she’s scared, it means she expects horror. And Eve knows that Tatiana delivered that horror on a regular basis until she completely abandoned Oksana to a fucking orphanage. She pushes down her fury at that horrible woman and offers a soft smile. “Can we talk about it?”

Oksana doesn’t understand when Mommy crawls into the closet instead of dragging her out. And then Mommy—what? She wants to talk about it? “I—I am bad, I know,” she whispers. What could there possibly be to talk about?

“No,” Eve says, her voice quiet but sure. “Your behavior wasn’t good, honey, but you’re not bad.”

“I know I have to go away now,” Oksana says, trying not to feel anything.

“No,” Eve says again. She will get Oksana to believe her come hell or high water. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here with me, and we’re going to talk, and we’re going to get through this together and figure out a better way for you to act in the future.”

The numbness she has been trying so desperately hard to feel starts slipping away at Mommy’s words. “What? You are not getting rid of me? But I broke the pencil and flipped over the table,” she says, astounded.

Eve figures it’s time to be honest about what’s going to happen, because she knows Oksana will never believe her if she just pretends it’s fine. “You did break a pencil, but you’re going to use part of your allowance to buy a new box, so that takes care of that.”

Oksana’s breathing starts to slowly normalize. Maybe Mommy isn’t lying. “And the table?” She can barely make herself ask.

“The table... well, baby, you’re going to get a spanking for that,” Eve finally tells her.

“No,” Oksana whines. But she knows it is better than any other choice and deep down she knows she deserves it. She hasn’t had one before, though, so it makes her nervous. Nervous, but she realizes she’s not scared anymore. When she realizes this, she lunges forward and throws her arms around Mommy, squeezing so hard. “Okay,” she whispers, and she hopes Mommy understands that this is her way of saying she won’t put up a fight.

“Good girl,” Eve says, tears in her eyes as she squeezes Oksana back. “I’m proud of you.”

Oksana doesn’t understand that, either, but she believes it. “I feel... something different, Mommy. When I came into my room and saw all of the things you bought for me and how you fixed up my room the way I would like... I... I feel _bad_ , Mommy. Please make it go away.”

“It’s called guilt. You feel guilty, Oksana,” Eve says, charting another moment in Villanelle’s emotional evolution. “Will you come out of here with me now?”

Guilt. Oksana doesn’t like guilt. At all. If she could tear apart the person who invented it, limb by limb, she would. But she nods to the question and lets Mommy help her out of the closet.

Once they’re standing up in Oksana’s bedroom, Eve takes her by the hand and leads her to the bed. She sits down and looks at her little girl. “I’m going to spank you on your bare bottom so you remember to behave, Oksana,” she says gently.

Oksana immediately stares at the floor because Villanelle threatens to ruin the moment.

Eve can sense a tiny shift in the atmosphere, but she moves ahead, knowing Villanelle will stop her if she needs to. She reaches for Oksana’s shorts, freeing the button and lowering the zipper. “Pull down your shorts and bend over my lap,” she instructs, moving her hands away.

Oksana trembles a little but she trusts Mommy now, and she pushes her shorts down and bends over.

“Thank you,” Eve says, and she lifts Oksana’s knees up onto the bed so she’s lying flat. Then she lowers the white cotton underpants. “I’m going to spank you ten times.”

Oksana isn’t sure if she is supposed to say anything, so she doesn’t. And then Mommy spanks her. It hurts a lot, but it is okay.

Mommy spanks her again, on the other side. That hurts too.

Mommy spanks her again. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” she can’t keep from saying. Mommy spanks her _again_. “ _Eve_ ,” Villanelle groans. “I’m sorry for misbehaving.”

Eve stops breathing for a second, and the transformation sends a shockwave hurtling through her and between her legs. “You need me to stop,” she checks in, though that is not at all what it sounds like Villanelle wants.

"No,” Villanelle pants. “I need Mommy to stop. I need _you_ to spank me.”

Eve lets out an indecent moan. And she spanks Villanelle. Hard.


End file.
